Tempest: Checkmate
by kaiserklee
Summary: Tempest!Verse. When Elsa first met Gustaf, she had liked him. ("I only wanted to visit, for old time's sake if nothing else. It's been too long since you've been among us mortal ilk. Isolate yourself too long, and you'll lose sight...")


**a/n:** Elsa is 10, and Edmund is 8. Gustaf is in his late-twenties.

* * *

**Tempest: Checkmate**

When Elsa first met Gustaf, she had liked him.

Well, not quite the _first _time. Elsa met everyone all at once during that rushed introduction on her first day, and then a second time over supper. It had taken her little time to grow wary of Tobias, who was always sneering in her direction, and Fabian, who seemed to think it hilarious to poke about how out of place she was. However, Gustaf, who sat at the far end of the table rather than his rightful place to the right of Markus – a position now occupied by Elsa – remained politely distant throughout dinner.

It was actually more than two years later when she first interacted with Gustaf in any significant capacity. Not to say they never saw each other, far from it. They passed each other in the halls and exchanged polite greetings, and of course every night at supper Elsa would see Gustaf. But compared to those she shared classes with…

No, they were as good as strangers.

So it was only by chance that while Elsa was exploring by herself, she found Gustaf in the lounge patiently teaching his much, much younger little brother on the finer points of his favorite pastime. Not an entirely rare occurrence, though generally Gustaf was accompanied by Cyrus and Cyrus meant _Fabian_ was also around; Elsa preferred to avoid Fabian. She was not _afraid _(never be afraid, Markus said, always be proud), only rightfully cautious of the mean-spirited, sometimes lewd man. Cyrus knew where to draw the line. Fabian had no such scruples.

Hence the second coincidence, that today there was only Gustaf and Edmund, and Elsa felt comfortable enough to linger a good distance away and watch. Edmund sat so far forward he was dangling precariously over the edge of the couch, entire face screwed up with utmost concentration as he glared at the chessboard. On the other hand, Gustaf looked completely at ease.

"Checkmate," Gustaf said.

"I made all the right moves!" Edmund exclaimed. "How did I lose again?"

"You're overthinking and losing adaptability. Sometimes, you have to step back and look at the greater picture." Gustaf turned to Elsa, who had thought herself very discrete as she watched. "Would you like to join us, Elsa? You've stood there a while."

"O-Oh, I'm sorry. I wouldn't want to impose–"

Moving so fast Elsa couldn't react with much more than a yelp, Edmund bounded up, took her by the hand, and dragged her over to the couches before sitting her down in his own seat across from Gustaf. Edmund himself plopped down on another couch and huffed.

"You can get slaughtered in my place, Elsa," Edmund said, looking much too innocent for the glee in his eyes. Suddenly, though, he winced and kneaded his temple. Gustaf leaned forward but Edmund shook his head. "Just a headache."

"Again?" Elsa asked. She had noticed him doing much the same in class.

"Comes and goes. All this chess and thinking is getting to me." Edmund shrugged, and then his eyes brightened again. "Oh! Actually, I've been wondering. Can I call you Sis? It's all right if I call you that, right?"

"Don't scare the girl. Edmund can be very enthusiastic, I apologize," Gustaf sighed, rearranging the pieces on his side of the board. Elsa hastened to mimic him for her own field. "Nicely done. Very efficient."

"Th-Thank you. And that's fine, Edmund," Elsa said, but her voice left as a pitiful squeak and Gustaf raised an eyebrow.

Edmund grinned. "What did I say? We're family now. Calling Elsa Sis isn't such a big deal."

"As if anyone could refuse when you ask so brusquely," Gustaf said dryly.

It _was_ a little strange to be considered part of the royal family, and even stranger still to be so warmly welcomed when Elsa was used to being unwanted. Of course, most of the welcome came from Saul and Edmund, with the others maintaining an amicable distance – Stefan, Rafael, and Alek as long as Alvard was elsewhere. Hans was distant from _everyone_, so he didn't count. Elsa had tried to talk to him once and been firmly rebuffed, and she decided against prodding further.

Edmund had been one of two people to fully accept her from the get-go, so while Elsa was thrown by the request, she didn't mind. "It really is fine," Elsa said again, and Edmund cheered. Gustaf shrugged and directed her attention to the chessboard.

Elsa listened intently as Gustaf explained how each piece moved and how they captured, and to her great relief it took only one time for her to memorize the individual chessmen.

"They are simple individually, but taken together, the possibilities are endless," Gustaf warned. "Now then, we'll play a game."

"He likes to teach you to think on your feet," Edmund offered, when he noticed that Elsa looked stricken by being thrown into the game so quickly. "He'll give you pointers…but _after_."

Elsa nodded slowly. "I actually prefer to be taught that way."

"Ahh, I hear from Edmund that you are excelling in your studies."

"Hardly excelling, but I manage."

"Elsa usually does the best," Edmund said. "Even better than Saul! And we all know how much he cares about his grades and actually _studies_."

"Most people care a bit more than you." Gustaf shook his head when Edmund only laughed and Elsa hid a smile behind her hand. Looking back down to the table, he switched the board around. "I usually play white, but I'll give you the first move. Go ahead, Elsa."

It was to his credit that Gustaf didn't capitalize on every single flawed play Elsa made and gave her the chance to gradually feel out the game – and she knew she made many mistakes, though at first she didn't understand quite _how_, only having an intuitive feeling that she could have chosen a better move. After each game, Gustaf indeed told her how to improve, and slowly but surely Elsa began to see the holes in her strategy and adjusted accordingly.

"You learn quickly," Gustaf said.

"Thank you," Elsa answered, ducking her head just a little at the unexpected praise.

"Hey, better than me," Edmund said, peering over the board in excitement and very nearly knocking a few pieces over. "Took me ages to figure out all these pieces."

"Shouldn't you have memorized them quickly?" Elsa asked.

Edmund shrugged. "Well, yeah–" Gustaf cleared his throat and Edmund rolled his eyes, correcting himself, "Well, _yes_. But, you know–" Elsa cleared her throat. Clenching his teeth this time, Edmund said, "_However_, I found it difficult to, as Gustaf likes to remind me, _see the big picture_. You two are horrible."

"I'm sorry, but after being corrected myself so many times…" Elsa smiled widely.

"Fine, Sis, I'll give you that one."

"Digression aside, chess is a lifelong study but you are making extraordinary progress." Gustaf chuckled when Elsa began another game by moving her King's Pawn forward two steps. "Ahh, the Danish Gambit. Aggressive."

E4. E5.

D4. ExD4; Gustaf took her pawn.

Elsa nodded. "Markus told me that the best defense is a good offense."

C3. Pause.

To her surprise, Gustaf frowned. "Father has always been willing to forgo caution, but…" D5. Rather than take her bait, he only sent a pawn behind his own, the one positioned to take the sacrifice Elsa had laid out for him. "Now then, I have safely taken one of your pawns and your options are limited. If you follow Father and his instruction blindly, then this is the result. I know that all too well, I'm afraid."

It wasn't long before that game ended, and on a rather brutal note to boot. Whatever restraint Gustaf had was suddenly gone, replaced by the expert play of a master that left Elsa cornered in three moves.

"Gustaf and Father don't get along very well anymore," Edmund said suddenly.

It was very rare to hear anything so sensitive said so directly in the castle, where all of the princes had been taught from birth how to speak without revealing too much. Even Saul sometimes hid things from her without realizing he was doing it. After so long, Elsa herself was fast becoming used to the sort of double-speak that had practically been a second language at first. What was _not _said was even more important than what was, and she had practiced how to pick out implications from the tiniest of clues.

But truth be told, the subject of Gustaf and Markus was something Elsa had wondered about for a long time. By all rights, Gustaf should have had her seat at dinner, the right-hand position and not the far end. And as the eldest son, Gustaf should have been the heir yet Markus still had not named him so. Other things clued her in too, signs that weren't half as subtle. When father and son passed each other, their greeting felt even colder than the ice Elsa was learning to control.

"Edmund," Gustaf chided, but the younger boy only stuck his tongue out and fixed up the chessboard. Elsa was much too preoccupied to do it herself, and Gustaf seemed to have little interest in it either.

"It's a matter of some delicacy, I'm sure," Elsa said, the words sounding awkward in her head and feeling even more so on her tongue. It wasn't the way she would normally speak, but rather than ask a question – which would essentially be _demanding _an answer – she phrased it as a statement that Gustaf could choose to either answer or politely ignore.

For a very long, tense moment, Elsa was sure Gustaf would choose the latter.

"We have our differences in opinion," Gustaf admitted finally, but for once his mask slipped and a hint of darkness crept into his eyes. With his normally impassive face lit up by sudden intense energy, he resembled Markus more than ever. "And there are many debts that Father has yet to repay."

Edmund tilted his head in questioning, but Elsa didn't prod further.

"I-I see."

They continued playing, but the atmosphere was considerably different. Gustaf seemed deep in thought and his pointers became halfhearted and ineffectual; Elsa likewise played in silence, her plays becoming increasingly sloppy. It only got worse when Edmund left, claiming that he needed to find something to do before he died of boredom; Elsa really thought she might accidentally release a burst of ice from how uncomfortable she felt. When about five minutes later Edmund returned with a sketchbook and plopped down at his old spot, Elsa had never been gladder. Edmund filled in the gaps of silence with slightly inane chatter, all the while drawing diligently into his book.

Elsa couldn't help looking over to see what Edmund was so engrossed in.

A sky with dark storm clouds gathered overhead. To one side was a snarling dragon spewing dark fire from its maw, and on the other, a radiant human figure with noble features carrying a golden spear. On closer inspection Elsa saw that Edmund was not drawing a human, for the figure possessed large white wings in stark contrast to the veined and leathered bat-wings of the dragon. It was an angel.

"_Factum est silentium in caelo. Dum committeret bellum draco cum Michaele archangelo_," Edmund recited, continuing to sketch with remarkable ease and skill as Elsa looked on curiously.

"There was silence in heaven. Then the dragon entered battle with the archangel, Michael," Elsa said slowly. "It's very good."

"Thanks, Sis." Edmund grinned his usual toothy smile but didn't look up, opting to continue working and now angling his pencil to better shade the wings. "But still, you should see Stefan draw. I can copy stuff but Stefan actually does his own paintings."

"So why this one?"

"An old favorite of mine, and one Edmund seems to have picked up," Gustaf said. "I liked confrontations between opposites, between extremes, good and evil, justice and injustice. Dragon and angel, locked in eternal combat."

"I just think it looks amazing," Edmund piped up.

"But you don't like it now?" Elsa asked.

"Being idealistic is not always a viable approach. The angel is not always the angel, and the dragon is very rarely only a monster. I've found that things are not often as straightforward as that, not black and white." Gustaf nodded to the chess pieces, so starkly contrasted by color and arrayed on firmly opposite ends. "Do you think they are, Elsa?"

Elsa paused, struggling for an answer. "I would hope so."

"Perhaps one day you will find an answer," Gustaf said, smiling wryly. "I certainly have not."

* * *

Not long after, Markus told her of Gustaf's insurrection and Elsa forgot all about the dichotomy of the Dragon and Archangel Michael, vowed to erase whatever poisonous influence Gustaf had on her mind.

It was just as well.

The world hardly needed to be more complicated than it already was.


End file.
